Entry 4039
by NiGhT-sTaLkEr13
Summary: A small diary entry from Megatron's point of view when he was locked away in Cybertron's Institution for the Criminally Insane and Defective Mechs in my Transformers series.


**Summary:**

****A small diary entry from Megatron's point of view when he was locked away in Cybertron's Institution for the Criminally Insane and Defective Mechs in my Transformers series.

**Written in:** 2010.

Entry 4039:

Nothing. That's basically what I feel these days. Emptiness seems to haunt me, but at the same time, I often wonder if it's better this way. At least it takes away the pain and suffering.  
Each cycle seems to drag on and on, as if my life is just one… long, and I mean incredibly long, cycle. Light to dark cannot be deciphered anymore. It's all just the same dank atmosphere. The only good thing about it is that I'm neither hot nor cold. It seems to be just constant down here, but that means it's still. And that itself is enough to drive me insane.  
Most nights I lay here, wondering what lay outside these prison doors. Primus, I can't even tell how deep down I am anymore. It's been stellar-cycles. The calendar on my wall has got to be out of date. After all, I'm pretty sure I've been using it for at least five vorns now. All time has been lost to me. And with it, grows the emptiness around me.  
In saying that, my desires haven't managed to leave me. I may feel empty, but that doesn't mean I still don't feel the rage inside my wires. Each day I think of it, and not letting it out only makes it grow. I want to tear things apart. I want to rip the flesh with my bare hands. And most of all, I just want to feel the raw power of it all, especially when that dark warmth bathes my body.  
I sweat so much sometimes that I just want to cut myself so I can feel it. But I can't. I can't fall to that kind of weakness. It isn't me who should suffer, it's them! Every single last one of them!  
… Sometimes I think Gammaray enjoys seeing me like this. I know it's something I shouldn't be jumping to conclusions about, but the mech never seems to know how to help. He punishes me for something that I just can't control. And believe me, I've tried. It's not easy. By trying to control it, it only makes him angrier, and it only makes him abuse me mentally, as if I'm his pawn in this whole game. Like life is just some sick and twisted maze and challenge for him. And he wants to take it all. He wants to conquer. And with him, I am to conquer, even if I don't wish to.  
Yes, I think it's safe to say, I'm beginning to give up on myself. Why try and fight this thing when every day I know he's growing stronger, and that means I'm growing weaker without choice. Sure, everyone has choice and power, but did I choose for this to happen to me? No. I'm so tired of doctors telling me what I am and what I can do. They aren't me, and therefore they have no fucking clue to what I am suffering each cycle! They aren't inside my head! They don't understand a THING to what I am going through.  
"You'll be fine," says Gammaray, whilst looking to me with those fucking deceitful optics. I just want to take his throat and strangle him, shake him until he's nothing but a corpse. How can he sit there and LIE to me like that! As if I'm actually going to believe that bastard of a mech! He's done nothing but screw with me the day he fucking met me!  
… It's just another day, though. Well, it could be afternoon for all I know, or even midnight. And yet, I still let things bother me… like that constant fucking dripping from the Primus forsaken bathroom. They call this hospitality! I know I'm not in fucking Iacon Palace, but shit, the least they could fucking do is CLEAN the rooms before they put patients in them!  
The berth is… fucking disgusting. And it's not from me. Who knows how many other 'bots they threw in here before I was condemned to this shit-hole. There are no sheets. There is no cover for the mattress. Instead, it's just a hard and bouncy slab with piss stains covering it, and who knows how many vomit stains. Not to mention the walls of this room. It looks like the bottom of a fucking ship. And don't even get me started on the bathroom. Tiles are hanging from the wall, the mirror is covered in grime, and the toilet? It makes me want to shudder each time I need to take a piss. In saying that, the steamer isn't all that bad, but that's due to the steam cleaning most of the shit off it and letting it go down the drain. I'm pretty sure there were oil stains around the tiles, too. Someone must have put up a good fight, or maybe they just committed suicide from being in this death-box.  
There's one good thing about being able to write. Gammaray doesn't look in this anymore. Personally, I don't think he was allowed to in the first place. These things are meant to be for patients and patients only. It's meant for 'bots like me who can't exactly… explain the truth to someone else. Not to mention the fact that I just can't believe that she has done this to me.  
I was so young. So fragile. And now I look at my body and ask myself how the fuck she had enjoyed touching something so small. I thought femmes liked the mech's with massive shafts, not… sparkling, fucking, the size of a puny USB. I can't understand how I can fuck a femme and they enjoy it so much until I tear their insides out with my own body. I never meant for myself to grow this big. Sure, I work out and try to keep myself preoccupied, but there is no exercise for a cable. I just grew that way… Does that mean there is something wrong with me? I don't know. I've never learnt any of this shit. How the fuck am I supposed to when I'm locked away all day and night? The only thing I DO know is my own fucking pole and the ports I've destroyed by using it on them.  
Primus, just the thought of it all is making me hard. Sometimes I just wish it was gone, you know? I may have tried to cut it off twice before, but what Gammaray says is true. It's never going to take away the lust that I have and need. Just… argh, I can feel my oil running cold just daydreaming about my hands around her throat, my shaft in her tight aft, oil covering my body…  
Shit, I need to calm myself down. I need some fucking energon before I go take an extra cube and piss in it. I can't believe I just wrote that… that's fucked up. And yet, that's what you have to resort to down here. Not me, personally, but a mate of mine—not that I really have any. He was one of the patients locked across the hallway. He used to scream a lot, and talk to himself. Fuck, he probably had schizophrenia or something. Always thought that someone was after him or watching him. And then I heard him being taken out one day, and I couldn't help but see the state of his room. It was painted with the stuff, as if he'd tried to kill his enemy with his own urine. And then he never came back… I'm pretty sure they killed him.  
The smell of it stuck with me for cycles on end, and I almost vomited a fair few times. But it reminded me of how I was when I was just a youngling. How I'd take those kills and soil them to claim them as my territory or some shit like that. Fuck, I don't even know anymore. This place has just made me worse.  
Anyway, I got some shit I need to finish before I go back to recharge. I've been working on a new piece of art, but it's taking its toll on me. I need a nice, warm steam off and a good hard wank before stasis…

Date: Ø8- Ħ÷- Ҹ۴₪2

**Author's Comment:**

Well, this was basically a small entry that I wrote down in one of the days that Megatron was inside the asylum. Gives you a bit of a personal insight to what he feels like. Also, I didn't want the dates to be just human dates, so I made them into weird little things for effect. :)


End file.
